A Well of My Desires
by Nalledia
Summary: Aceline always knew she was out of place in this world, so when a witch offered her a chance at a new life in Middle-Earth she took it with both hands, not realising how close to home she was going to get, or how her past ties into all of it. Rating may change later on.
1. 1: The Decision

**A/N:** This is the new, revised version; so do enjoy: I believe it's of a much better quality than the first.

**A Well of My Desires:**

Legolas Fanfiction

DISCLAIMER:

I do not own any of the Lord of the Rings characters or places; they are all works of the genius Tolkien. This work is based more on the movies than the books. The rest of the characters belong to me. Enjoy this, and please R&R! Also, this work was very much inspired by the poem and artwork _The Well of My Desires_ by Cris Ortega. Enjoy!

**Chapter One: The Decision**

Every night she dreamed, every night she wished for an escape, an adventure. Every night came as both a blessing and a curse, as she knew she would get her wish, but she also knew her wish was broken by dawn's cruel hard light.

Her name was Aceline. She supposed, when she thought her life over, that it was good: both parents were kind, and they had wealth to rival the kings of old, able to give and take pleasures that only money could buy. Granted, it was a much better life than what she might have had, considering that many others might have taken her from the orphanage instead, but they were work-obsessed, and she rarely felt warmth and love from these people, felt no comfort from the seemingly endless riches they showered her with whenever something happened and she was let down. Aceline couldn't quite pinpoint it, but something was missing in her life, and what exactly that something was, she didn't know – just that she needed, even craved, for it. She had few friends, seeing the world through her eyes was something that the others at her private school couldn't quite understand. She was seventeen, and already she knew there was more to life than this meaningless collection of treasures. There simply _had_ to be more, but she wasn't sure how to say it without sounding ungrateful.

Aceline sighed, running her fingers through her almost raven hair as she stared into her hazel-eyed reflection in the bathroom mirror of her favorite coffee shop, just a few minutes' walk from her school. She came here often, reading magazines, newspapers and sometimes, she watched the people. She had set aside days for this, and carried a notebook with her which she filled in with details about what she inferred about them from how they looked, talked, acted. If she wasn't here, then she was at the stables a few blocks away, helping out when she could, riding at other times. Today, though, was neither of those days: today Aceline was having lunch at the coffee shop with the one person she felt most comfortable with, and a small grin creep up the one side of her face as she thought of Roslyn. She quickly smoothed her skirt, and glancing in the mirror once more, turned and sat down at a table quietly tucked away in a corner, but with a nice view of the shop. She ordered a hot cocoa, and watched the people, her eyes flitting to the door every now and again. Aceline couldn't stop the smile when she saw a plump, pompous woman march in, demanding the best coffee the shop had as she quickly spied the place for Aceline, and planted herself across from the girl. Roslyn was one woman that Aceline would never be able to guess, regardless of the many times she had probed and quizzed during their initial conversations, and still she never quite knew what the woman would do: she was just too opposite her appearance, and too much like it. _Always unpredictable_, Aceline thought.  
"Aceline! My darling! How are you this morning?" she exclaimed cheerfully.  
Aceline smiled. "Alright. Though I have had better before, Roslyn."  
Roslyn gave her a sympathetic look, barely heeding a timid waiter as he carefully placed Roslyn's coffee down in front of her, and quickly scurried away. She sipped her coffee thoughtfully after a moment, then scowled suddenly. "You indecent scoundrels!" she exclaimed.

Everyone who frequented the coffee shop flinched and cringed visibly, they knew what was coming. The rest stared, with mixed expressions of shock and outrage. "Always, _always_ the coffee is too cold! Make a new pot, heat it properly this time and _so help me if it scalds my tongue_!" Roslyn shouted at no-one in particular, but at least four waiters came scurrying for the extended hand precariously holding the cup. "It only takes one to make a new cup of coffee," she said coldly. Aceline hid a smile and chuckle in her own warm cup as she sipped it. The next time Roslyn would walk in, her coffee would – naturally – be too hot. "Tell me, Aceline, what happened last night? How did they take it?"

Aceline placed her cup on the table slowly. This was her age-old struggle, and one she felt she was losing more desperately than any other.

"Well," she began, fiddling with the handle of her cup. "I tried to talk to them, you know, tell them I wanted to spend more time with them – even if we only spoke for a few minutes – and all my father could say was 'Not now, I'm busy', the best my mother did was: 'Sweetie, we'll talk later'," she sighed angrily, quickly swiping a hand over her face, and deliberately stared down at the table in front of her so Roslyn wouldn't see the tears threatening to build. Aceline _hated_ crying. "I was thinking maybe I should try that… thing, you know, that we talked about last time, and maybe stay there for a while and come back, then take you up on your offer," Aceline concluded, feeling like she'd just shared her entire world of misery with the woman she called friend. Again. Roslyn touched Aceline's hand, waiting for the girl to look up before she smiled softly at her, taking in the familiar deep, soulful hazel eyes and almost raven hair tumbling around her shoulders. "We can start preparing tomorrow for the next full moon," Roslyn said softly. "Ah, at last," she chided, withdrawing as a young man placed her now-warm coffee in front of her. "I expect both of ours to be free," Roslyn stated. The waiter blanched, murmuring that it would be, and something about a slice of the cake of the day, then hurried away. Aceline smiled incredulously at her friend, feeling her mood lift a little again. She never understood how Roslyn got away with it; once Aceline had tried it at a different restaurant, but to no avail. If anything, she ended up paying more. They discussed a few other things, lighter than the start of their lunch, such as Aceline's school subjects, projects and the interesting twists myths tended to take from the truth, when Roslyn finally put her cup down for the last time. "You are welcome over for dinner tonight, Aceline," Roslyn said warmly as they stepped outside.  
"Thank you, Roslyn. I might just see you," Aceline replied. They parted, and Aceline took the longest, most roundabout route home she knew and settled in for a few hours of Saturday college homework before heading out to dinner at Roslyn's mansion. If there was one place she could spend forever, it was there.

_oOo_


	2. 2: Dinner

**Chapter Two: Dinner**

Aceline had returned home to an empty house, and the silence was deafening. She never had liked silence, although a quiet place she could appreciate. She put her bag down in her study; a large, airy room with dark wood furniture, with floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with stories, histories, biographies, textbooks and whatever other books she could find. Aceline had read most of them at least twice, and she found her fingers trailing over the spines until they reached a worn hardback. Warmth blossomed in her chest when she saw this book, and she stopped for moment to pull it off the shelf, savoring the feel of the heavy book and its smell. She opened the cover to the title page.

_The Lord of the Rings_.

_This is it; this is where I want to go,_ Aceline decided. If there was a way, she would do it. She knew that. She put the book down on her desk, took out her iPod from her school bag and strolled through the otherwise modern house her parents owned. Aceline was looking for her portable stereo, and found it in the kitchen. Apparently her mother had gotten a hold of it in one of another of her failed attempts at baking, judging by the either burnt or underdone cookies on the counter. Aceline raised a brow, and investigated them a little more. _At least this time they're normal chocolate chip,_ she conceded, picking up one of those not quite ready and turned it over, then took a small bite. She shrugged, deciding they weren't so bad and put the oven on again, finding a tray and putting a few on it. The burnt ones she put in a bowl, and found a pestle to crush them for the birds. She doubted even they would find burnt cookies tasty, but then she might be wrong. She put the tray in the oven, and spread the crumbs outside. Aceline returned, placing the bowl in the basin and taking out her now-perfect cookies, fitting her iPod into the stereo and carrying it under arm back to her study, the tray in hand. She scrolled through her ling list of artists, trying to decide on which one she wanted to listen to. She eventually settled on Loreena McKennitt, and let her music flood the room as she closed the door. She especially loved _Beneath a Phrygian Sky_. Now was the time to see what homework had to be done, and to finish it if she could. Aceline bit into one of her biscuits, and studied her timetable, thinking back to the subjects she had. _French, English, History, Art… Math?_ She pulled out her books, scanning each one and eventually settling on starting with French. A long afternoon awaited her before dinner with Roslyn.

* * *

Aceline thanked the taxi driver, handing him his due as she stepped out and looked over Roslyn's estate. It was the only thing it could be called, considering the size of the grounds. Aceline had never managed to wring the answer out of Roslyn as to how – or where – this had all come from, only a few coy subject changes and once, a sad look had crossed Roslyn's face and Aceline hadn't asked again. Few taxi drivers ever wanted to drive all the way down the tree-lined lane to the house, for whatever reason, so Aceline was left to wander down it on foot. She grinned, listening as the taxi drove away and spreading her arms, spinning around, dancing and skipping down the long lane to the main house. It was always a sight to see the large mansion, so imposing and yet so homely. The grounds were surrounded by trees, and lawns stretched out between the house and the trees. Aceline had wanted to explore it many times, but aside from the stables refusing to send a horse out so far, and Roslyn's partial heart-attack at having a horse rip up her grass, it hadn't happened. Yet. But it would, Aceline would make sure of that.

* * *

"Mmm…. You should open a restaurant, Roslyn! You have the best recipes!" Aceline exclaimed while seated at Roslyn's large, antique kitchen table. Aceline had arrived an hour ago, and had watched Roslyn make a most delicious-smelling and divinely-tasting pasta. When she had tried to help, she was rewarded with playful smack with a wooden spoon. Roslyn scoffed at the compliment. "You're forgetting my temper! No-one would last an hour! And anyway," Roslyn said coyly, her eyes glinting as a whisper of a smile played her lips, "Any good witch should know a thing or two about her herbs and how best to cook them!" Roslyn finished with a flourish, taking a bite of the pasta. Aceline smiled; it was easy to forget that Roslyn was gifted in the arcane arts, although, the effects of it was visible throughout the immaculately clean mansion, and the stately, manicured gardens and the extensive library of grimoires, amongst the many altars scattered throughout the house and gardens. Aceline seemed to find a new one each time she came to visit. "So, this spell," she started, moving the pasta with her fork as she spoke, "it should take me anywhere I want to go?" Aceline asked.  
"Well," Roslyn said, leaning back, swirling the red wine in her glass. "It will take you anywhere except your own past or future, as you'll have to un-age yourself for the past, and you'll have to know your exact future to get there. Also, travelling through your own life breaks many laws, arcane and otherwise," she swirled the wine once more. "However, if you were to go backwards or forwards but to a different _place_, you'll be okay," she sipped her wine thoughtfully before continuing, "Think logically about it and you'll see the answers are already there. But yes, as long as you have something symbolic of that place you can get there."  
"And if I wanted to go into a fictional world?"  
Roslyn blinked carefully. "Who's to say it's a fictional world?"  
Aceline paused, thinking over an argument to that and not really finding one. "Alright, fair enough. So, if I wanted to go to Middle-Earth?"  
Roslyn nodded. "It's perfectly possible. So, for where you want to go, for example, we'll get the ring made – albeit differently to the 'original' – and enchant it."  
Aceline nodded; what Roslyn had said made sense in a strange kind of way, and she already had the ring, she just needed to inscribe it…. "If I already have a ring?"  
"Then you use it as it is, or add details to it to make it more special and unique to you. I would like that ring as soon as possible, to start preparing it for the next full moon."  
"Can I give it to you some time this week? There's just one last thing I need to do with the ring," Aceline said, glancing at Roslyn as she sipped her water. Roslyn nodded, and Aceline smiled briefly, taking another bite of the pasta. She didn't see the concern in Roslyn's eyes, or realize just how close to home she was going.

_oOo_


	3. 3: Under A Silver Moon

**Chapter Three: Under A Silver Moon**

Aceline had the ring inscribed with the motif from the One Ring, glad she preferred white-gold to yellow-gold. It looked beautiful, if she could brag about it, and Roslyn had been pleased with the craftsmanship of the inscribing, giving Aceline a few things to do to fill the ring with her aura, so that it became a part of her, understand her energy. The month flew by to the next full moon in preparations for the spell, as well as schoolwork and projects that slowly grew into a small mountain of work, no matter how much effort she put into lessening it. Aceline spent more and more time with Roslyn, practicing words games and learning a few elvish phrases with Roslyn, and every evening ended with different and exotic, delicious foods she had cooked that night. Aceline wondered how many recipes her friend actually had, because she had never eaten the same thing twice in the two years she had known Roslyn. She thought back fondly to the time they had met in the coffee shop, when Aceline had been a few coins short of paying for her cocoa, and Roslyn had stepped in, seeming surprised to have run into _her_ specifically. After that, Roslyn had expressed an interest in different arts, and they had gotten along the way old friends always did, no matter the time between visits.

Aceline could only thank whatever gods there were that it was summer holidays; she wasn't sure she could rein in her nervous excitement any longer. Soon she would be leaving for Middle-Earth, and she would be able to spend time with some of the characters she had admired… Eowyn, for her strength and determination, Pippin for his optimism, Gandalf for his wisdom… she couldn't wait to meet all these people! And the elves; oh, if she could only spend one day with the elves, or maybe see Rivendell and Lothlorien and even Mirkwood…. Aceline would be happy. She was just waiting for Roslyn to let her know when she could come over for the last part of the spell. Her parents believed she was headed on a road trip of sorts, so they wouldn't miss her for at least a few weeks. It was an expected surprise when Roslyn called one afternoon, and eventually she hinted at the spell.

"I have a special dinner planned for you tonight, Aceline. Are you ready for my legendary cooking?" Roslyn asked, her voice a little challenging and a little expectant.  
Aceline took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "Yes, I think it'll be worth the wait, and I have no doubt you have everything all planned out to the T."  
Roslyn laughed. "Good! I'll see you at seven, then."  
"Alright, yes. 'Bye, Roslyn."  
"Fare well, Aceline," Roslyn said, and Aceline suddenly realized just how much of a witchy air Roslyn had about her. She put the receiver down with quivering hands, and a broad grin on her face. She had a few things she needed to pack for her journey.

* * *

"Alright, how does this work?" Aceline asked impatiently late that evening, after dinner with Roslyn. Aceline would have never noticed the changes Roslyn had made to the food she ate if Roslyn hadn't pointed it out with a sudden change to a spicy, flavorsome homemade pizza. Aceline had always like the spicier foods, and could handle the hotter foods as if she had grown up eating it all her life. It had always amazed her that few other people liked their food as hot as she liked hers. Roslyn smiled coyly. "Patience. We'll start by turning your ring into a portal. When you put it on, it will take you there, or bring you back. Don't lose it, and make sure that you don't leave it on, either, lest you render its power useless and you will be trapped."  
"Where will I be trapped?" Aceline asked, blanching slightly at the prospect of never being able to come back. It was only meant to be temporary, after all.  
"Wherever it was that you wore the ring for twenty-four hours. So be careful, Aceline, I can't undo the spell once you are there, and I won't be able to come fetch you, either."  
Aceline nodded, and twirled the white-gold ring in her hands. She had inscribed it with the motif from the One Ring from _The Lord of the Rings_ series. She handed it to Roslyn. "Let's do this," she said, tossing her head a little to move her hair out of her face. The witch nodded, and with Aceline's help, proceeded to cast various spells on the ring, imbuing it with various teleportation powers.

* * *

"It's ready," Roslyn proclaimed a while after midnight. Aceline slowly reached for the ring, anticipation of what she was going to do rising in her throat and washed away her weariness. She hadn't quite expected the spells to take as long as they had, nor the strangely draining effect they had. Then again, Roslyn had always stressed that using magic required energy, and if you ran out of energy you were in trouble. Aceline rolled the ring in her palm. "You'll tell my parents –"  
"That you've gone on a road trip if they ask," Roslyn said, gently cutting the girl off with a smile. She hoped she was doing the right thing by sending Aceline away, especially since she was sending her to Middle-Earth…. "Stay the night, and leave in the morning. You know where your room is," Roslyn said, waving the girl away. Aceline smiled, then yawned suddenly. She bounced the ring in her palm and wandered to the room Roslyn had set aside just for her.

* * *

Aceline had her backpack shouldered, and was standing in Roslyn's living room after breakfast with the ring in her hand. She took a deep breath. "I'll see you when I get back," she said, looking at her friend.  
Roslyn nodded. "You had better, girl," they hugged briefly, and Roslyn stepped back. "Good luck, Aceline. May the Goddess watch over you."

Aceline closed her eyes as she slipped the ring onto her right ring finger.

_oOo_


	4. 4: On Conversing with Elves

**A/N:** Apologies for how slowly this one's been moving – I'm currently using up all of my muses for my TES:V fanfics, which leaves little room for something softer and sweeter like this. I hope to work through this one a little faster fairly soon, so bear with me for a little while still Much appreciated And a review would be nice… Considering the 'original' followers haven't come back, this is essentially a brand new fanfics and I'd like some feedback from the few people who've read it Ok, I'm done whining now: enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter Four: On Conversing with Elves**

Aceline opened her eyes to a dark, leafy green sky and ancient columns of wood. _I did it! I made it out! Oh, thank you Roslyn! _Aceline thought, a large, self-satisfied grin spreading across her face. She laughed, spinning around with her arms outstretched; to be free to start a new life in a new place, to heal the hurts of the past in peace… this she would enjoy. Aceline slid the ring off her finger and onto a chain she had brought with, slipping it under her shirt. Aceline turned around, wondering which way she should go. She remembered the spiders that lived in these woods, assuming she was in the place she _thought_ she was, though she doubted Roslyn's magic would have led her astray…. Either way, she had enough food to keep her going for a week, maybe a few days more if she rationed herself properly. Maybe she could find an animal path, and follow that to a water source, and hopefully come across another human-esque creature. Aceline took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and set off in a direction that seemed right to her. She doubted she was far from people.

* * *

The third morning of her travels had Aceline in a strangely bright and cheery mood: she was sure today she would come in contact with people. She wasn't very sure _how_ she knew that, exactly, but she knew. She had been lucky enough to have avoided most animals as well, and hadn't had any misfortunes as of yet. Aceline had a quick breakfast of bread and cheese, and stowed her things in her pack to prepare for the day's walk.

She had been walking for perhaps three or four hours when she heard hoofbeats thudding softly on the forest floor. She loved the feel of thundering hooves, and then the sound. There couldn't be more than eight horses, if she could judge the feel to that of a polo match. The rhythm was slowing, and the vibrations got softer until they disappeared altogether. "Hello?" she called out, a slight frown on her face. The forest was suddenly very quiet. Aceline strained to hear over the silence. Then she felt the horses come closer, cantering easily as they came into view, all eight of them. She put her pack on the floor next to her. The riders surrounded her, and a strong, masculine voice called out. "_Dartho_!"

Aceline felt her breath escape her. These were elves. So she _was_ in Mirkwood! A small half-grin formed on her face as she turned slowly to look at each of the riders. The horses were all in shades of grey, with only one black. The elf who had called out before spoke to her again. "_O man d__ô__r t__ú__liel le? Man eneth l__í__n?_" he demanded, a frown adorning his sharp features; Aceline couldn't help but think of an eagle when she looked at him. His long, dark hair was neatly braided out of his face. Aceline gaped at him in shock: her limited knowledge of Elvish came from the movies and books, and here she stood, hearing it straight from the elf's mouth, so to speak. She shook her head and turned to face him squarely, scrabbling in her mind for an appropriate reply. In Elvish. "_Heniach nin?_" the elf asked a little gentler than before, stopping her short before she could reply to the other questions. At least she understood this one a little better. "Uh, uhm…" Aceline stammered. "_L-law, im Aceline –_"  
The elf waved a hand, cutting across her. "_Tolo hi!_" he gestured at another rider, who dismounted swiftly, leading his steed closer to Aceline and took her backpack.  
"Hey, be careful with that!" she exclaimed as he tied it onto the back of his saddle. The elf with her backpack just shot her a disparaging glance before he helped another elf lift her into his saddle, seated in front of him before the first mounted. A few more words were exchanged between the eight riders and then they set off. Aceline was starting to wonder about her idea as she touched the ring and chain around her neck. Especially the part where she couldn't really speak the native languages.

* * *

Aceline had gotten out of the saddle stiffly when they stopped that night. Riding side-saddle on the pommel was incredibly uncomfortable, especially with these medieval-style saddles. Every now-and-then as they had travelled, the elves had called to one another and animals only they were aware of, and sang in harmony with the birds they attracted. Aceline savored their sweet language like an exotic honey: it was so much more emotive than anything else she had heard – even French, and few languages were as beautiful to her as that particular one. Three she-elves rode with the group, and they accompanied her whenever she left the main group. Whatever space and privacy she had never exceeded the elves's earshot. All of the elves seemed to have a very minor understanding of English, though the elf who had first spoken to her, whose name she had learned was Calanon, seemed to know the most. It was broken English, most of the time, and sweetly accented by his mother tongue, but at least they could communicate with each other. Aceline tried desperately to catch words of their conversation and infer what they spoke about, but it was too fast and too different, and often everyone ended up confused when she tried to ask about words and syntax. Only Calanon seemed halfway patient with her attempts to learn Elvish: contrary to his appearance and apparent rank, he was actually quite kind. Aceline was pleasantly surprised by it. She suspected that her jeans and T-shirt, along with her sudden and unexpected appearance in what she managed to confirm was Mirkwood had unnerved most of the elves, prompting many initially curt reactions. Aceline had no idea what half of the food she ate with them was, but it seemed to be mostly the same thing: a bread of sorts with honey, fruits, herbs or cheeses. When she asked what it was, she thought she recognized the word 'lembas' amongst other, foreign words that all blurred into one. She smiled and nodded: at least she had heard of lembas before. She quite liked the taste of it all together. Sleep came like an old friend, and dawn would come when it came.

After much gesturing, a confused mux of languages, maps and general frustration all around, Calanon managed to explain to Aceline a week later that they were perhaps a day's ride from the city, maybe two. What he didn't say, Aceline understood much better. As he glanced at the ground to his left at his elves, Aceline knew that she was going to see their king, and the chances that she could very well be imprisoned until they understood who she was and whether or not she was a threat was incredibly likely. She'd just have to prove she wasn't dangerous in the slightest.

The day ahead was long and tense for Aceline as they drew closer to the palace. She wondered what it would be like to step into the halls of the elves.

_oOo_

* * *

Elvish Translations:

_O man d__ô__r t__ú__liel le?_ From what land do you come?

_Man eneth l__í__n?_ What is your name?

_Heniach nin?_ Do you understand me?

_L-law, im Aceline…_ N-no, I'm Aceline…

_Tolo hi!_ Come now!


	5. 5: The Palace & King Thranduil

**Chapter Five: The Palace and King Thranduil**

"_Hebo estel, Aceline_," Calanon said as he guided her along the path to the palace doors, away from the comforting smell of leather and horses. She smiled wanly in return, her stomach a knotted mess of nerves and excitement: how should she treat a king, never mind an _elven_ king? Aceline forced herself to take a deep breath in, and breathed out, moving her focus to the imposing masonry of the palace. She noticed delicate carvings of elves, trees and animals adorning the façade, and as she gazed on it, she thought the entire structure looked more and more like a close-knit grove of trees, albeit stone trees. Two guards stood outside the doors, and at a brief nod from Calanon, swung open the massive portal on almost silent hinges to the outside. Aceline could only gape at the sight around her once her eyes had adjusted to the firelight inside.

The floor was a smooth, flat and rich, deep jade, with red jasper swirling in between in random, inlaid patterns. The difference between the jade and the jasper was almost flawless. Large, strong columns were carved and grooved to look like ancient tree trunks, shimmering with a polished tiger's eye glow. As her gaze lifted, the canopy – _The roof,_ Aceline corrected herself – was a great, intricate portrait of various shades of emerald leaves and lapis lazuli sky. She didn't think it was possible to put this much life, this much realism into a photograph, never mind sculpting it from cold stone. Calanon cleared his throat softly next to her, and Aceline remembered to close her mouth, her cheeks growing warm. She was, after all, in the palace of the elven king, Thranduil. Aceline turned her sights to the throne, now a mere five meters from her. It was elegant, and ornately carved from a dark wood, and yet it was breathtakingly simple. A regal, imposing elf-king sat atop his throne; his presence resonated with authority and power. His long blonde hair flowed down over his shoulders, and a crown curved around his head, his blue eyes gazing over her in interest.  
Aceline was filled with wonder for the elf king. She curtseyed a little clumsily, and bowed her head when she stood closer to the dais. "King Thranduil, your halls are of a long-lost beauty," Aceline stated softly, in awe of all around her, daring to look up at him only when she had finished speaking.

Calanon smiled to himself behind her.

Aceline was eloquent, and charming in a way only mortals could be. His only thoughts then, were what his king would make of her. He glanced towards his monarch, a small smile still paying his lips when he saw his king's expression. "Rise, Mortal. Your flattery is unnecessary, but always welcome," Thranduil commanded, a smile gracing his features. He let his gaze brush over her, taking in her appearance. She was beautiful for a mortal, but nothing special. Her brown eyes and very dark brown hair was something to be expected of the Men he had encountered. And perhaps, her appearance could also fit those of the Easterlings', with her slightly bronzed skin color. Or, perhaps she simple spent more time in the sun than others he had encountered. He turned his attention to Calanon, and quizzed him on this mortal girl in Elvish. The most his general could say, was that she seemed to be harmless, concerning the confused state she was in when she was found, and that she was either skilled enough to sneak through the Mirkwood borders this far, or was powerful enough to wield magic as a means to travel to any place she wanted to go to. "The latter is unlikely, your grace," he continued in Elvish. "I have not yet seen her use magic of any kind, and she doesn't seem able to wield any herself."  
Thranduil leaned back in his throne, bringing his long fingers to his mouth in thought. He nodded slowly, wondering if this girl knew an old friend of his. She so resembled an elven woman he had known years ago…. "My lord," Calanon continued a little hesitantly in Elvish, "I have a letter from the king of Gondor, King Aragorn Elessar…."  
Thranduil immediately held out his slender hand, leaning forwards as his blue eyes brightened with interest. He had heard the ranger had finally followed his destiny. Calanon dutifully strode forward, placing the sealed envelope in his king's outstretched hand. "Tell me, Mortal, what name do you go by?" Thranduil asked as Calanon backed away to stand beside the girl.  
"My name is Aceline, your grace," she said, almost meeting his eyes. She seemed to catch herself just before, as if she had never dealt with aristocrats before and was used to looking whomever she spoke to in the eye.  
Thranduil nodded. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said, turning the letter over in his hands, switching his gaze to Calanon and speaking in Elvish. "Give her a room somewhere, but make sure she understands that the dwelling will only be temporary; she'll be travelling with us soon if this is the letter I suspect it to be…."  
Calanon bowed, sensing his king's dismissal. "Your grace."

Aceline watched the conversation with interest; the elf-king was far more curious than he let on, and she was sure he also noticed a lot more than he seemed to. She wondered briefly what he would be able to tell her about herself. The elf who had found her, though, seemed exceptionally pleased about something, and Aceline had a feeling it had to do with her meeting with King Thranduil. _I wonder where his son is,_ she thought, thinking she might have heard 'Aragorn Elessar' in their conversation. How far into the War of the Ring were they? Was it over yet? Aceline shook her head; she would ask later, and hope she got a straight answer from Calanon. She had quickly learnt as she traveled with the elves that they were tricky creatures even at the simplest of times. Calanon smiled at her briefly, gesturing for her to follow him. He left the palace, passing one of the other elves he had ridden with to put Aceline's pack in a room in the palace. The dark-haired elf nodded, and headed inside.  
"_Hannon le_," she muttered shyly when Calanon explained what had happened. She turned, and looked around her at the forest, dwellings and elves coming into view as she looked for them. Eventually she turned, facing her new companion, if not yet new friend. "Can you show me around?" she asked, waving a hand at the tranquil city nearby.  
Calanon gave her a broad grin. "_Mae!_" he grabbed her hand, and pulled her with him to see the rest of the wooded folk.

_oOo_

Elvish Translations:

_Hebo estel, Aceline_ Have hope, Aceline

_Hannon le_ Thank you

_Mae_ Yes


	6. 6: Worry Bites Hard

**A/N:** Now we're finally onto more 'proper' chapters, and it should be smoother sailing from here – until the start of chapter nine, everything is now just editing for clarity and niceness. Anyway, that's useless info to most of you, but hey.  
Also, I just want to say Thank You to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favorited this newer version. I really appreciate it!

**Chapter Six: Worry Bites. Hard.**

Two days later, a surprisingly small entourage of elvish nobility from Mirkwood finally began the journey to Gondor. The letter King Thranduil received was apparently an invitation to Lady Arwen and King Elessar's wedding, amongst other things Aceline clearly wasn't privy to. She couldn't help but smile at all of this, taking in as much as she could, and asked as many questions as she could come up with that didn't sound too strange, but she still ended up re-wording her questions to get a halfway straight answer from some of the elves. They seemed to open up more once they realized she was just as capable of word games as they were. Besides, she was living out a fantasy: and it was one she would cherish for as long as she lived. Aceline decided she was going to have to make a fuss of sorts to really show Roslyn how grateful she was….  
They travelled strangely fast for all the – in her mind – unnecessary extras nobles seemed to need to take with them. Unnecessary things such as chests full of clothes and jewels they probably weren't even going to consider wearing. But then Aceline was neither an elf nor a noble, and she had never found the point of over-packing. It wasted space that was better used for a few truly precious souvenirs, in her opinion.

Once they reached the open plains beyond the forest on the way to Lothlórien, Aceline had finally been given free reign over her own horse. The gelding was white, with a mottled, coppery collection of spots. She took an immediate liking to his awake, interested personality. He seemed to have a mischievous streak she would enjoy – Aceline had always loved the livelier horses: it showed they had personality, and these were the horses she got along with the best.

Aceline loved riding, and the feeling of absolute freedom while astride a horse. A phrase from an old Bedouin legend came to mind: _Thou shalt fly without wings, and conquer without any sword, O Horse! _How true. Aceline loved the feel of the wind in her face, the grace and power beneath her, and all of that because of one willing horse. She simply _had_ to go for a gallop, as soon as she got the chance. Not just a fast or extended canter, but a proper gallop – she would fly with her steed.

Aceline always, without fail – and regardless of how late she slept – managed to be ready and waiting long before the elves were close to being halfway ready. They seemed to take their time to enjoy every moment, instead of going through the necessary motions quickly and taking the time to enjoy the peace and quiet thereafter. Or, perhaps she was just over-excited to be going to Gondor – that was probably it. This morning was especially bad Aceline couldn't wait anymore for these elves and their morning rituals. Her steed shifted restlessly next to her; he sensed her mood and felt similarly. Aceline looked at the open land ahead of her, and back at Calanon, who had come with. He was busying his own horse. She felt a wicked smile creep over her face as she inched closer to the saddle, turning her steed slightly. She probably had less than five minutes before they'd stop her.

He knew she was up to something the moment she was given her own horse to ride. She just couldn't wipe that silly grin off her face, and her eyes would brighten wistfully every time one of the elves would canter ahead. Calanon could only hope that he would be able to stop her _before_ she did something stupid…. Suddenly, he heard the squeal and thud of a rearing horse, the rapidly increasing tempo of galloping hooves, and light peals of laughter. "_Tiro!_" cried another guard, pointing at where Aceline _had been.  
_"_Ai, rhaich_," Calanon muttered angrily, and vaulted onto his horse, giving chase. "Aceline!" he called after her. So _this_ was her plan all along.

Aceline felt breathless at this feeling of natural speed and freedom. A smile was firmly in place on her face, and she laughed. She leaned further forwards in the saddle rising in her stirrups and gave her gelding all the reins to run as fast as he pleased, lacing her fingers in her hair. "_Noro lim, noro lim_," she urged him faster, and felt his joy at being able to run. He squealed in joy, tossing his head and leaping forwards.

"Aceline!" she heard a voice call. Again. So she was being followed. She stood a little straighter in the stirrups, slowing her excited mount gradually to a walk as she circled back. Calanon slowed as he drew near. He gave her a chiding look, and started lecturing her in his tongue. Aceline just stared back blankly, wishing again she understood exactly what he was saying.  
"I don't understand a word of that. and I can't just walk along; neither could he_,_" Aceline puffed, a little disheartened as she rubbed her fingers against her mount's withers. She sighed at the frustration burning in the elf's eyes, and decided arguing was pointless. She just gestured that they could ride back. It wasn't as if she had gone far, either… she _would_ have come back.

* * *

"Aceline is perfectly fine," Roslyn sighed for the umpteenth time. At last, her parents were concerned about her, but at the most difficult time possible.  
"Roslyn _let me speak to my daughter!_" Aceline's father exclaimed. Roslyn leaned on her kitchen table, pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes shut. Aceline had been gone almost a month now, and her parents had somehow decided that Roslyn was the cause of it. Which wasn't entirely wrong, either. "I've told you, she's not here…" she tried, hoping the man would take the bait and hang up, trying again at a later time. He was really testing the limits of her patience, and it was a patience she only had for him because of Aceline. She could hear him bristle on the end of the line. "Listen, woman, I want to speak to my _daughter_ NOW!" he roared.  
"Well that's just _not possible_," she snapped. "Aceline has gone on a trip. She will call you when she _wants to call you_!" she slammed the phone, wondering if she had gone too far this time with Aceline. She hadn't sensed anything bad happen to the girl, but still Roslyn worried: Aceline was her responsibility. She strode over to where she kept her tarot cards, runes and crystal ball. _I might be exaggerating, but I'd rather hear the same thing from different means than wonder…. Even though I do check up on her every, oh, day or so,_ she finished dryly. She laid out a multitude of spreads for both the tarots and runes, looking at things from as many angles as she could and rephrasing her questions often to cover all aspects. Each time, the runes and the cards supported each other, and the general answer was that Aceline was in good health and good hands; Roslyn felt a little better, but that certainly didn't make her worry go away. After all, she had looked out for the girl since she had been born. She shook her head, glad Aceline didn't yet know much about her heritage. She wondered if the elf-king would recognize her, or if he wondered where this girl had suddenly come from.

Roslyn pulled her crystal ball closer. She preferred to work with apple-sized amethyst, and the polished ball shone. She focused on it, and let her mind go to the magic she carried within her.

What she saw, made her smile: the girl was holding her own amongst the elves, and played their wit-games relatively well. But she still got caught out every so often, usually when she got exasperated with their vagueness. She thought back to Aceline's mother – her biological mother – and the circumstances that had brought the girl here. It had left Roslyn sad that her friend could not cross the world-bridges with her daughter, but it had managed to keep the child safe. Not a single one of the Dark Lord's pawns had found her. Yet. They were bound to find her, now that she was back in her own world. Roslyn sighed heavily, sorrow threatening to resurface. "Oh, Vanlanthiriel, what has happened to the years?"

* * *

Aceline had arrived in Gondor, sick of travel and annoyed with any elf who still dared make small talk with her. She just wasn't up for any more word games. More and more often she found herself thinking of Roslyn. "Wish you were here to tell them off," Aceline muttered under her breath, smirking at the imagined responses. She knew she'd never be able to pull a single one of them off.

As beautiful as Lórien had been, and as sharp as the elves were, she found herself longing for a slightly more crass and Manly company – someone who wasn't quite so perfect all the time, every time. She shook her head, riding up a rise. As she reached the top, she looked up from staring at the horse's white-streaked-with-brown-and-black-and-gold-with- maybe-a-little-red-too mane.

Her breath caught in her throat, and Aceline halted the gelding. There, just over the savannah plains of the Fields of Pelennor – still abused from the recent battle – just a few miles away from where she stood mounted, was the White City of Gondor – Minas Tirith. "Oh, by the gods." She exhaled. Calanon halted beside her: they had ridden together ahead of the host. She laughed in nervous excitement. "Wow, _that_ is a beautiful city; something so perfectly _white_… absolutely amazing…"

They looked at each other and Calanon offered a small smile before riding on, confused. This mortal seemed to change moods as easily as one would breathe. Perhaps it was because she was still so young, and that she was a woman. That, or mortals were not worth the trouble they caused. Those were the only possible explanations in his mind.  
After her little… _stunt_… their host had travelled with a little more purpose, recognizing that she was more than able to manage a horse on her own. His king had attributed it to their being late. Calanon supposed it was true, but it wasn't really his place to make such speculations. He lifted his face wistfully to the heavens, and was disappointed.

Clouds were gathering at enormous speeds, and threatened to punish them with pelting rain within a few minutes. "Aceline, wait – h-here," he tried.  
She stopped, following his gaze to the sky. "Damn the rain," she muttered. She didn't feel like getting wet in the slightest. Calanon rode back to the host to warn Thranduil of the impeding storm. The weather had been fair up until now; they had been lucky.

Minas Tirith was the only point not hidden by clouds. The sunlight that streamed onto it, making Aceline wish for her camera. It was majestic, and tinged with gold. Lighting flashed and thunder rumbled not far from her. She flinched at the sight, and her mount tensed, almost rearing. He blew loudly from his nostrils, fear rolling off him in waves. "Shhh…. It's alright, it's okay," she shushed, shifting more weight into her heels for balance as she stroked the length of the mottled horse's neck. She glanced behind her. The host was moving into a gallop for Gondor, now. But they weren't going to make it in time.

Aceline turned her eyes back to the White City, grabbing a fistful of mane as she decided upon her course. She rose slightly in her stirrups, feeling anticipation from the gelding. "_Go!_" she commanded, and her horse leapt forwards, grunting. Fear and adrenaline fueled him, giving him longer strides, faster paces. She leaned low as thunder growled and lightning clashed between pregnant clouds.  
They were going so fast she could have sworn they were flying, if not for the constant thrumming of hooves on grass. Wind gusted from the east. She felt her steed stumble sideways; it had slammed into them harder than anything she had ever felt before. "It's ok, keep going. We'll make it, keep going," she encouraged the horse. His breathing had shortened to grunting snorts.

"Oh no…" she saw and heard the rain before she felt it. It came down as sleet, and it stung through her elvish riding clothes. She felt sorry for the poor horse, who squealed at the sudden assault. "_Noro lim, noro lim, noro lim!_" she urged. The grass squelched under them. They galloped further, less than five miles from the city gates. Aceline pulled hard on the left rein, throwing her seat into the right to help turn the horse. He grunted in effort of turning so suddenly at this speed. Lightning struck right where they would have been.  
_Phew,_ she thought, throwing a shoulder-glance. _Glad I have a 'sixth sense'._ She steered the horse more steadily to the gates. _Three miles…. Two miles…. Less than one… _Aceline counted.  
Makeshift barriers were hastily moved out of the way when the Gondorians saw her coming. She started playing the reins, standing taller and easing the creature into something more controllable before halting right inside the stables. They both panted as guards and stable boys appeared around them, soaked through. "King Thranduil…" she huffed, "is still out there; and the other – the other elves…" her breath steamed in the cold, and she dismounted stiffly, shivering. Several soldiers had saddled horses and left to aid the elves. How they planned to do that, she didn't know. Aceline leaned against a wooden pillar as stable boys coaxed her horse away and sank to the floor, her legs stretching out in front of her. For all she now cared, a horse could trample all over them; she was too tired to move them to a safer place. For just a few moments, she'd close her eyes, just to rest them…. Just for a moment….

_oOo_

Elvish Translations:

_Tiro!_ Look!

_Ai, rhaich_ Oh, curses

_Noro lim, noro lim_ Run fast, run fast


End file.
